not think there had been so much of delicacy--of what I may call
the 'beauty of kindness'--in a man whom incessant business had rendered
ordinarily blunt and abrupt. I hardly recognized the impatient Trevanion
in the soothing, tender, subtle respect that rather implied than spoke
gratitude, and sought to insinuate what he owed to the unhappy father,
without touching on his wrongs from the son. But of this kindness--which
showed how Trevanion's high nature of gentleman raised him aloof from
that coarseness of thought which those absorbed wholly in practical
affairs often contract--of this kindness, so noble and so touching,
Roland seemed scarcely aware. He sat by the embers of the neglected
fire, his hands grasping the arms of his elbow-chair, his bead drooping
on his bosom; and only by a deep hectic flush on his dark cheek could
you have seen that he distinguished between an ordinary visitor and the
man whose child he had helped to save. This minister of state, this high
member of the elect, at whose gift are places, peerages, gold-sticks,
and ribbons, has nothing at his command for the bruised spirit of the
half-pay soldier. Before that poverty, that grief, and that pride, the
King's Counsellor was powerless. Only when Trevanion rose to depart,
something like a sense of the soothing intention which the visit implied
seemed to rouse the repose of the old man and to break the ice at its
surface; for he followed Trevanion to the door, took both his hands,
pressed them, then turned away, and resumed his seat. Trevanion beckoned
to me, and I followed him downstairs and into a little parlor which was
unoccupied.

"After some remarks upon Roland, full of deep and considerate feeling,
and one quick, hurried reference to the son,--to the effect that his
guilty attempt would never be known by the world,--Trevanion then
addressed himself to me with a warmth and urgency that took me by
surprise. 'After what has passed,' he exclaimed, 'I cannot suffer you to
leave England thus. Let me not feel with you, as with your uncle, that
there is nothing by which I can repay--No, I will not so put it,--stay,
and serve your country at home; it is my prayer, it is Ellinor's. Out
of all at my disposal it will go hard but what I shall find something
to suit you.' And then, hurrying on, Trevanion spoke flatteringly of
my pretensions, in right of birth and capabilities, to honorable
employment, and placed before me a picture of public life, its pri